


summer anthem

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Childhood Friends, M/M, Marriage, NHEV, No Happy Ending Fest, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kim Jongdae’s life is a series of mistakes, one after the other.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Park Chanyeol, Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32
Collections: No Happy Ending Fest - 2020





	summer anthem

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** R5-050  
>  **Prompt:** Jongdae promised to sing at his wedding, he wasn't expecting the funeral would come first.  
>  **Pairing/Main Character(s):** Chanyeol/Xiumin, Unrequited!Chanyeol/Chen  
>  **Word Count:** 1,577  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional Tag(s):** major character death

Kim Jongdae’s life is a series of mistakes, one after the other. 

It was a mistake to lend his shovel and bucket and collection of race cars to the kid with the toothy smile. It was a mistake to become his friend. It was a mistake to introduce _Yeowwie_ and his parents to Jongdae’s own parents, because they would “instantly connect” and proceed to “be best friends” for the next 20 years. 

Park Chanyeol has always been a permanent fixture in Jongdae’s life. From the day he sat down in the sand next to Jongdae and said, “wow, your cars are so cool!”, he’s made himself a space in Jongdae’s life and heart like one makes a divot to sit in playground sand. 

Jongdae’s biggest mistake might be Chanyeol. Just Chanyeol. Nothing good has come out of being friends with Chanyeol. 

(He says, sarcastically, as they play party games on the porch. They’re 15, a little drunk on smuggled alcohol, a lot drunk on summer heat and the illegality of underage drinking. Chanyeol reaches across the circle to slap Jongdae’s thigh. They laugh, and it tastes like passion fruit candy.) 

Though Kim Jongdae’s singular biggest mistake is probably falling in love with Park Chanyeol. 

Everything after that is collateral damage. Helping him get with Minseok, the hot football team captain, is collateral damage. Watching him fall in love with said football team captain is collateral damage. Skipping an important choir performance comforting Chanyeol after a terrible fight with Minseok is, you guessed it, collateral damage. 

It’s a lot of damage. He walks to their engagement party with a bouquet and a bottle of wine and wonders what he’s doing. 

I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s wondering what he’s doing. He’s done a lot of that too. A glaring instance: he’s 17. Chanyeol is lying on top of him. They’re in the thick of summer, and he’s sweating, and the fan is whirring in the background. 

_What the hell have I done_ , 17-year-old Jongdae thinks. The summer heat and his dick being in Chanyeol had made his mind sticky and staticky, but with the kick of the aircon turning on and the cum cooling on his skin brings him back to reality. It would technically be Minseok and Chanyeol’s third anniversary, and Jongdae would technically be helping Chanyeol cheat, if not for the fact Minseok broke up with Chanyeol over text two months ago. 

He’s a rebound, plain and simple. But he didn’t mind. He hadn’t minded being a rebound when Chanyeol edged toward him with large, dark eyes. Didn’t mind when Chanyeol pressed his lips to Jongdae’s in a non-truth-or-dare-dare way. Hadn’t minded a thing. _Finally_ , is what he’d been thinking. 

He didn’t mind too much, and now he’s drowning in just how much he minds. He feels sick. 

There’s no way in hell 165-cm-Jongdae would be able to push a 180-cm-Chanyeol off him. Physically, that is. He stares down at Chanyeol’s sleeping face, eyelids fluttering as he dreams (of cuddling Minseok, probably), and he can’t bring himself to do it. 

So he lays there. He simmers. In the heat, in his shame. 

Chanyeol mumbles, “Minnie,” and Jongdae can’t do it. He shoves Chanyeol off him, though the bed isn’t all that big and Chanyeol goes tumbling to the floor. He wraps the sheets around him, around his shame, and tries not to cry as Chanyeol looks up at him with huge eyes. 

“Oh, fuck,” Chanyeol says, and that’s all he needs to hear. His mouth is still shaped around Kim Minseok’s name. “Dae—” 

He clenches his fists in his sheets so they don’t shake. “We probably shouldn’t have done this,” Jongdae says quietly. He tries not to sound as heartbroken as he feels. He’s become good at that, in his 5 years of loving Park Chanyeol. 

He clenches his fists in bouquet paper so they don’t shake. “Congrats on your engagement,” Jongdae says, smiling at a now-27-year-old Chanyeol. He dips his head so his look doesn’t linger, and shakes Minseok’s hand. He tries not to sound as heartbroken as he feels. 

He’s become really good at that, in his 15 years of loving Chanyeol. 

“Hey,” Minseok says as they cut engagement-party-cake, “you sang choir in high school, right?” 

_I fucked your fiancé in high school_ , Jongdae doesn’t say. If anything, Minseok probably knows already. Chanyeol doesn’t keep secrets. He cocks his head (to show interest), smiles (to be polite), and says, “I did, yes. What about it?” 

“Dae also does live shows at that bar,” Chanyeol pipes in, holding out a plate and fork. _That_ bar. Of course Jongdae knows what bar, but Minseok goes “ahhh”, like he knows, too. And smiles again. 

“So, Yeollie and I were wondering if you would sing at our wedding?” Minseok asks, and Jongdae almost drops his cake. He doesn’t. That’s an accomplishment. He stares at his minutely shaking hand, and reels it in. 

Ever since he was little, he hid things. He hid his race cars in the sandpit. He hid snacks under his pillow. He became good at it. 

It’s a testament to how good he’s become at hiding things that, when he looks up from his momentary freak-out, Minseok and Chanyeol’s smiles haven’t even budged. He says, “I’d _love_ to,” with appropriate flattery, and the happy couple break into matching beaming grins. 

“That’s wonderful!” Chanyeol says. 

It’s not wonderful at all. Jongdae goes home and sits in the dark until God takes pity on him and lets him fall asleep. He wakes to his phone buzzing in his face, unknown number on the screen. 

“Hello?” he picks up, groggy. It might be his boss, who has a tendency to call him from a multitude of different phones for some godforsaken reason. 

It is not his boss. “Hi, is this Jongdae?” asks Chanyeol’s to-be-husband Minseok. 

Jongdae thunks his head on the arm of the couch, twice, thrice. His phone bounces onto his fluffy rug. 

“Jongdae?” 

“Uh,” he says, grabbing his phone off the floor. “Hi, sorry. I went to bed late last night so I’m a bit tired.” It’s not a _lie_. He throws a yawn into there, for emphasis. “Was there something you needed?” 

“Ah, right! I thought you should be here for some of the wedding planning stuff, as both our wedding singer and my Yeollie’s best friend,” Minseok says, tender, and how is Jongdae supposed to hate this guy? He doesn’t. 

He doesn’t hate Minseok. He hates himself. 

“We’re looking at venues tomorrow, if you wanted to tag along,” Minseok says into Jongdae’s silence. 

And “Okay,” Jongdae says, because what else can he say? 

He’s not good with words. Perhaps that’s why he’s never tried to put his feelings into writing, never tried to write his own _Jolene_. Minseok, Minseok, I’m begging of you, please don’t take the man who was never quite mine...... 

He laughs, into the emptiness of his own apartment. It’s 3AM. He’s supposed to go see wedding venues with his 14-year-unrequited-love and his to-be-husband tomorrow—no, today, it’s 3 in the morning. Oh, he wishes so badly he could talk to someone. 

Nobody likes him enough to not be annoyed at a call at 3AM. 

Nobody except Chanyeol. But he can’t call Park fucking Chanyeol. It’s not fair to him. 

_But how is any of this fair to you?_ the voice in his head says, plaintive. Right. It’s not, but what can he do about it? They’ve been together for 13 years. That’s almost half of their 27 years alive. How can he touch that, how can he come near that? 

Save the date, the card declares, August 20. A summer wedding. _How romantic_ , Jongdae thinks, running a finger over gold script, _their anniversary_. 

_How perfect_ , he thinks, tucking the card under a stack of unopened mail, _Chanyeol always said he wanted a summer wedding_. 

August 20. Sweaty skin and summer shame and the one time he got to indulge. Maybe the date of the biggest mistake of his life, when he was 17 and stupider than he is now, August 20, 2010. 

_you didn’t need to waste paper on mine_ , Jongdae texts. He throws his phone onto the couch, and gets into bed. 

_don’t be silly_ , is the reply that greets him in the morning. 

And so they enter the cake-tasting suit-fitting part of their wedding planning, and Jongdae is not needed anymore. They still text him updates. They’re too good like that. Too nice like that. He sits down at his desk, opens a brand new notebook he bought just for this, and writes _BEST MAN’S SPEECH_ across the top. 

In truth, Jongdae was never needed. 

_BEST MAN’S SPEECH_ stays blank. And then it’s August 19, a day before the wedding, and Jongdae downs a bottle of wine and gets started on his speech. It’s incomprehensible. When his eyes refuse to focus, he stumbles toward his bed. He doesn’t make it there, as shitfaced as he is, and collapses on the hardwood floor. It’s what he deserves, for being a piece of shit. 

His last coherent thought is as follows: _If only, something could happen, so that I don’t have to sing tomorrow._

He gets his wish. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi there. This is Seoul General Hospital. Is this Kim Jongdae?” 

“Yes. What happened?” 

“I’m very sorry to inform you that Park Chanyeol and Kim Minseok were involved in a severe car accident, and have passed away.” 


End file.
